


The Right Turn

by Leni



Series: Enter The Fairy [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle is Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8349145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: Prompt: “It’s too cold! Get back here…”





	

The isolation of the Dark Castle had been one of his favorite perks when Rumpelstiltskin had chosen it as his home. There had been not one house or farm for miles around it, no roads except for the twisted, rough path that cut through the mountain, making its sluggish way up to his gates.

It made sense that, once he had reason to search for a less conspicuous residence, he had still picked a spot far enough away from the closest village. He had little patience for the curiosity of neighbors, after so many years drawing stares wherever he passed. It wouldn't be the same, of course. No gasps about his inhuman appearance or whispers about his foul temper. But there would still be gossip floating around him, since there was no way for what seemed like a prosperous merchant to settle with his half-grown son and his young wife to settle in a town without earning everyone's attention.

Best to stay here, and avoid the temptation to use precious magic to silence the more importune tongues.

The drawback, of course, being that when Baelfire needed society other than his father or Belle, he must grab a horse and take an hour-long ride to Greenburg.

"It's cold," Rumpelstiltskin said automatically, stopping the wheel when he saw that Bae already had his outwear boots on, and was now securing his cloak at his throat.

Bae shrugged. "Been colder," he muttered, opening the door into the hallway.

Rumpelstiltskin winced. He barely bit back another apology. Words didn't erase years spent on the run from Peter Pan and the wild gaggle of boys he'd collected over the centuries, and even the most heartfelt promise to never let Bae down again wouldn't return to his son the easy smiles and even temper of so many lifetimes ago.

The sweet boy of his memories, the son who would have been satisfied if his father cast the Dark One's curse away, had become a youth that, while little changed in appearance, now eyed everybody with distrust and huffed impatiently at any attempt to care for him.

"It's too cold," Rumpelstiltskin repeated, raising to his feet to follow him. He reached the hallway by the time Bae was opening the heavy front door. An icy draft blew in, sneaking across the room and curling around the bare spots at his wrists and neck. Rumpelstiltskin shivered, growing restless when, despite his warmer clothes, Bae shivered as well. "Just get back here," Rumpelstiltskin snapped, out of patience when the boy showed no sign of retreat.

He understood it had been the wrong thing to say when his son's shoulders stiffened.

"I'll be _fine_ ," Bae grit out, and stepped across the threshold.

The door slammed closed behind him, leaving Rumpelstiltskin to stare. "Damn it," he cursed, tempted to go after him and stopped only by the memory of what had happened when he'd attempted it before. The last thing he needed was another week of glares and scowls and moody dinners. 

"Damn it!" he said again, keeping the words to a hiss so as not to upset the woman inside. Belle worried too much, always saddened to see father and son at odds. Her efforts to approach Bae served for little but to further antagonize the boy against her, especially if she tried to explain Rumpelstiltskin's side of the matter.

Trust wasn't a quality that came to his son easily anymore.

He would be all right, Rumpelstiltskin told himself. It wouldn't snow until late at night, and Bae was considerate enough to return before dark. It was foolish to fret about a trip to town, when the boy had survived so long under his mad grandfather's rule. 

There was nothing to do but to take a deep breath. shake his head, and sigh. Slowly, he made his way back to the living room. This room was warmer, aided not only by the merry fire at the hearth but also the thick hangings at the walls. The furniture was too sparse for his liking, and he had protested that he had gold enough to indulge in whatever their heart desired. Belle had answered with a quip about having less surfaces to dust and, in the end, the only thing he desired was to have his family under his roof.

Belle had rewarded his concession with a happy claim that this was her favorite room. There was still a library in the upper floor, sprawling over three large rooms, each of them with a cozy nook for a young woman to settle comfortably with a book and a cup of tea. But Belle had taken to the habit of bringing her chosen book downstairs and keeping him company as he spun or studied his own texts.

Now he paused for a moment, having meant to return to his work. But even if the steady turns of the wheel had been a sort of consolation for so many years, it didn't compare to the presence of his new wife.

He headed for the empty spot beside her.

"Hey," Belle said, and lowered her book. She smiled in welcome, holding out her hand as soon as he was within reach.

Rumpelstiltskin took it gratefully.

"Bae will be all right," she said. "Are you?"

Of course she hadn't missed a thing. He wanted to reassure her, but ended up letting out a heavy sigh. "What am I doing wrong?"

Belle shook her head. "He's still adjusting," she told him, gently guiding him to sit down.

The laughter that escaped him was too loud, harsh and bitter to his own ears. "Because he misses that damned island so much? Should I throw him into a cave, deny him warm food?"

"Don't be daft." 

The swift scold made him shut his lips together. Belle was right, of course. He was letting his disappointment lord over his tongue. Should Bae hear him... "I'm sorry," he whimpered. His instinct was to bury his face between his hands, but she was still holding onto him, so instead he leaned sideways to rest his head against her shoulder. "I wasn't a bad father, Belle. I swear I wasn't."

A soft chuckle answered him. "I believe you."

She knew only the best parts, of course. How he'd looked for a way to his son for centuries. How he'd walked into a different land and faced a terrible demon in order to retrieve Baelfire. There had been no need for the Dark Curse to be cast, and now he thanked all gods that his worst sin would never come to light. "A bad person, sometimes," he said anyway, because that much was no secret to Belle, "but never a bad father."

Belle hummed in understanding. For a long moment she said nothing, content to play with his fingers. Rumpelstiltskin kept quiet as well, by now recognizing when his wife was deliberating on her next words.

"Have you considered," she said at last, cradling his hand in both of hers and bringing it to her chest, "that maybe you're adjusting as well?"

He snorted.

"I know you never forgot him, but you did live without him for a very long time, Rumple. And now that you have him again, neither of you is the same - are you?"

Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes, but honesty forced him to nod. Baelfire was no more the trusting boy he'd been, than his father was a scared wretch. "Time brings change," he said, chuckling a little because he'd seen so much in three hundred years, and still he'd made himself disregard that piece of truth. "Guess I never let myself stop to take that into account."

"Exactly. And so you love him, because he will always be your child, but..." Her tone took a hint of apology with that last word.

"But I don't know him yet," he completed the thought with a glum sigh.

Her elbow nudged him gently, prompting him to turn toward her. There was optimism in her expression, and faith in him. Even if he didn't believe in himself, he thought, he could always believe in her. "You reached him across worlds, Rumple," she reminded him, squeezing his hand. "This is the easy part."

Rumpelstiltskin thought of how easily he could have failed. A whole world dragged where it didn't belong, and for what? How would he have ever traveled to Neverland from a world without magic?

"So much can go wrong, my dear," he said out loud, half talking to Belle and half to remind himself, "even when we intend the best."

But Belle had few regrets, and she'd never had to hate him for doing what must be done. "But nothing will ever take the right turn," she retorted happily, "if we don't change the course first. Stop treating him as the boy he was, I'm sure you can manage that."

He would have altered fate itself, and gotten nothing but ashes.

But perhaps that he'd chosen otherwise was the change that counted. It had taken one girl, too stubborn to be afraid, to convince him to hear out a fairy, and through her learn where his son was.

"I'll trust your wisdom, love."

Belle giggled, thinking he was teasing her.

Rumpelstiltskin said nothing. The truth would burden her unnecessarily, that he trusted her more than he trusted himself when it came to understanding another human being.

She was right. Three hundred years had not passed in vain.

He had never lost sight of the fact that he was a father, that his one priority was to reunite with his son. But perhaps... perhaps he'd forgotten how to _be_ one? "Just promise you'll tell me when I do something wrong, Belle. Please."

She watched him for a moment, then nodded solemnly, leaning down for a comforting kiss. "Of course."

 

The End  
22/10/16

**Author's Note:**

> *points at comment box*
> 
> Thanks in advance!


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